


Rose Gold

by amairylle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/referenced shitty parents, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amairylle/pseuds/amairylle
Summary: Hajime takes a few bites of his dinner. “My mom called.”Daichi winces. “That sounds shitty.”“Not even the half of it.” Hajime takes a sip of water. “Daichi…” Hajime pauses, and Daichi can see him choosing his words. “How do you feel about kids?”





	Rose Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stirlingphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirlingphoenix/gifts).



> Written for the [haikyuuwriters](http://haikyuuwriters.tumblr.com/) secret santa exchange.

Daichi’s most prominent soulmark is on his left shoulder. It’s solid and fluid, like ink, a beautiful steel blue with eddies of dusty teal. Daichi loves it. It’s his favorite gift from Hajime, even though there was no way Hajime could have consciously given it.

And it’s been itching all damned day.

It isn’t until lunch time that Daichi identifies the itch as Hajime’s stress and anxiety. He’d give all the itch creme in the world to know what’s going on, but Hajime isn’t answering his texts. The one time Daichi manages to get away from the clinic long enough for a phone call, it rings and rings without ever going through.

When Hajime gets home that night, he’s still on the phone. His shoulders are tight and the set of his jaw is tighter. He only stops long enough to kiss Daichi hello before he disappears into their bedroom. Daichi frowns, looking from the closed door to their abandoned dinner in progress and back again. The mark itches. Daichi swaps out the chicken for tofu and sets a pan on the stove for deep frying.

Hajime stays in their room for a very long time, occasionally shouting. It’s a struggle to keep dinner hot.

When the door creaks open and Hajime reappears, he’s still wearing his work shirt and dark-circled exhaustion around his eyes. He falls into his chair across from Daichi, his expression lightening at Daichi’s menu choice. “This is the first good thing that’s happened all day,” he sighs.

Daichi crosses his arms. “I resent that.” He smiles. “I’ve kissed you at least twice today.”

Hajime snorts. “I guess it’s the third good thing to happen to me today, then.”

“What else happened?”

The ghost of a smile on Hajime’s face vanishes. “Work sucked, my boss is terrible, same old, same old.” He takes a few bites of his dinner. “My mom called.”

Daichi winces. “That sounds shitty.”

“Not even the half of it.” Hajime takes a sip of water. “Daichi…” Hajime pauses, and Daichi can see him choosing his words. “How do you feel about kids?” Daichi blinks. His mouth works for a few seconds as he tries to pick a response.

It’s a few seconds too long. “So that’s a no, then?”

“It’s not,” Daichi says, shaking his head. “I’m confused, though. I like kids?” He fiddles with his fork.

Hajime tenses his shoulders further. “Having kids, then. How do you feel about having kids?”

Daichi puts down his fork and frowns. They’ve had this conversation before, shades of it, whispered at night after making love, in the park, at the zoo. Across dinner tables, too, but never with Hajime so tense, his foot bouncing so hard it makes the plates rattle, his jaw so tight Daichi can feel the stress-headache just by looking. “You know I want kids, eventually, Hajime. I think it’d be wonderful,” Daichi says, in the same tone of voice he uses to coax answers out of frightened children.

Hajime purses his lips and huffs. “What if,” he says, “‘eventually’ were a little sooner than either of us anticipated.”

Oh. _Oh._

“Yes,” Daichi says.

Hajime’s head snaps up and he stares at Daichi. Some of the tension finally bleeds out of his face.

For the first time since that morning, Daichi’s shoulder stops itching.

“Don’t you want to hear what you’re getting into before you agree?” Hajime asks.

“Of course I want to know the details.” Daichi picks up his fork and takes a quick bite. “But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Hajime’s shoulders tense again. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be involved in this.”

Daichi shakes his head. “We’re in this together, just like everything else.” His right hand goes to his opposite shoulder, fingers brushing the edge of the mark though his shirt.

“Sap.” Hajime smiles.

“Eat your dinner or tell me what’s going on,” Daichi replies, shaking his fork at Hajime. Hajime lets his head drop backwards and runs a hand over his face, leaking out a noise like a dying express train. “Never mind,” says Daichi. “Eat your dinner first, and you can hear about _my_ day.”

Hajime nods. “That’s a better plan,” he rasps.

After dinner they relocate to the couch, where they can cuddle and Daichi can dig his knuckles into the knots Hajime always gives himself when he gets worked up like this. “Do you remember my cousin, Kenta?” Hajime asks.

Daichi wrinkles his nose. “The one with the alcohol problem whose wife left him?”

Hajime looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Is that _seriously_ how you remember him?”

“Sorry! I only met him the one time, what, ten years ago?” Daichi holds up his hands as a shield. “Everything I know about him is your gossip. Plus, everyone on that side of your family has names that start with ‘ken.’” He sighs. “He seemed like a nice guy when I met him, but I doubt I could pick him out of a police lineup.” Hajime flinches. Daichi runs a gentle hand down Hajime’s arm. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Hajime chuckles, hollow enough to rattle. “It’s funny you should say that, though.” Daichi goes cold. “You’re right,” Hajime continues, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “He _is_ a pretty nice guy, and has been as long as I can remember. He’s a pretty decent parent, by all accounts, apart from the alcoholism.”

Daichi slides his hand under Hajime’s to work the knot. “He has a kid?”

Hajime leans into Daichi’s touch. “Mhm. A daughter. Megumi.”

Daichi swallows. “That’s not good.”

Hajime snorts. “My mother agrees with you, but like I said, by all accounts he’s a good parent. Especially according to Megumi.”

Daichi wrinkles his nose again. “I don’t like it when your mother agrees with me.”

“I don’t either.” Hajme reaches down and pats Daichi’s thigh. “It’s for different reasons?”

“Doesn’t help.” Daichi goes back to working on Hajime’s shoulders. “So what happened?”

Hajime squeezes his thigh harder. “He was driving drunk and he hit someone.”

Daichi sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Did they…?”

“They’re fine.” Hajime grimaces and grits his teeth. “Well, not fine. They’re not dead.” He sighs. “I don’t know those details.”

Daichi hisses. “And Kenta?”

“Almost certainly going to jail.” He flops back against Dachi.

Daichi wraps his arms around Hajime. “That sucks.”

“He did almost kill a guy.” Hajime yanks a couch cushion out of its proper place and hugs it to his chest.

A pit starts digging in Daichi’s stomach. “How’s Megumi handling this?” he asks, straining to keep his voice soft.

Hajime grits his teeth. “I haven’t spoken to her, but I’d guess ‘not well.’”

Daichi nods. “She can stay with us as long as she needs, then, if that’s what the rest of your family has decided is going to happen.” Hajime tenses all over again, undoing Daichi’s hard work. Sighing, Daichi rests his chin on Hajime’s shoulder. “Should I just let you get the rest of the bad news out before I butt in and try to help fix it?”

“What makes you think it’s bad news?”

“You’re making me itch again.”

“Ah. Sorry.” Hajime turns, flopping against the other arm of the couch. He sits cross legged facing Daichi, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Okay,” he says. “For the record, I don’t like any of this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s literally all terrible in some way or another. And almost none of it started with the accident.”

Daichi crosses his arms. The pit in his stomach grows. “Uh oh.”

“Yeah.” Hajime frowns. “My mom and a few other relatives don’t think that Kenta is really handling parenting well. The alcoholism isn’t exactly a point in his favor. And no one knows why Megumi’s mom left, but the family gossip is… not flattering. To either of them.”

Daichi groans. “Better or worse than the gossip around us?”

Hajime puts his face in his hands. “They’re actually considering giving us custody, and I’m not having to fight too hard for it,” he says through their muffle.

Daichi’s skin washes cold. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” replies Hajime. He whines once, like a deflating balloon, and retreats into his head. Daichi lets him for a minute, but when the tension starts building back up in Hajime’s shoulders, Daichi leans across the couch and peels Hajime’s hands off his face.

“Talk to me,” Daichi says. “Giving us custody?”

“I’m getting there, I swear.” Hajime reaches up to rub his temples.

Daichi holds out his arms. “Come back over here?”

They shift so that they’re laying down on the couch, and Hajime settles against Daichi’s chest, his head tucked under Daichi’s chin. In turn, Daichi sneaks a hand under Hajime’s shirt, caressing the green and gold painted across his ribs. “They’re using this accident as leverage to have Kenta sign custody of Megumi over to someone else.” Hajime’s voice is small and strained; almost tearful, but he’s too worn out to cry.

Daichi plants a kiss on the top of Hajime’s head and waits for him to continue. Hajime doesn’t. “…Temporarily?” Daichi prompts.

Hajime shakes his head.“Permanently.”

“Fuck.” Daichi tries to imagine what that would feel like, but the best he can manage is nausea and a horrible ache in his chest. “Do either of them have any say in this?”

Hajime starts to tremble. “Megumi got to pick which relative my mom called first.”

Daichi tightens his hold on Hajime. “You?”

“Me.” Hajime sinks further into Daichi’s arms and buries his face in Daichi’s shirt, his breathing ragged.

Daichi nods. “Okay,” he says, “So it’s settled.”

Tilting his head up, Hajime frowns at Daichi. “How is it settled? I’m not done.”

Daichi shrugs. “What else is there?”

Hajime counts off on one hand. “Logistics, mostly, and a rundown of the rest of the drama, and a bit about Megumi herself.”

Daichi shakes his head. “That’s fine. We can cover that after you call your mom back.”

“Daichi…” Hajime sighs. “I really, really don’t want you making an impulse decision just because you feel bad about all this. You’ll have to live with her, too.”

“Hajime…” Daichi caresses Hajime’s shoulder. “Do you want me to say no?”

Hajime sits up, catching Daichi’s hand as he pulls away. “What? No. I just—”

Daichi chuckles, levering himself upright as well. “Did you honestly think I was going to say no?”

Hajime frowns. “No, but—”

Daichi stares him down. “Then call your mom back. Right now. Before she changes her mind.”

Hajime’s jaw drops. His eyes flit from Daichi’s eyes down to his hands and back up again, looking for any sign that Daichi could be lying, just humoring him. He finds none. “You really mean that,” he whispers.

“I really mean that,”Daichi says, reaching for Hajime.

Hajime grabs Daichi by the cheeks and kisses him on the lips, hard. “Thank you so much,” he says between kisses. “I love you so much.” He hops off the couch and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Daichi grabs Hajime’s wrist while he’s dialing. “They had better let us keep her.”

“They will,” Hajime replies, with a curt nod. He raises the phone to his ear. “They will, or we’ll make them.”

* * *

Iwaizumi Megumi is thirteen years old, a little on the skinny side, and quiet. Very quiet. Daichi finds it disturbingly easy to forget that she’s in her room and hates himself for it, every single time. Still, as far as he can tell, she’s getting along well at her new school, and she’s comfortable in their apartment (which they’ve redecorated with several things from her and her father’s old one). Daichi considers that a victory, given the circumstances, but after two weeks he’s still not sure what her favorite food is or what’s her favorite music. Whether she has friends. Whether she likes him at all. It hurts. He’d hoped there’d be more parenting in this relationship, even if he doesn’t dare presume that she’ll ever see him as her father.

By the time Daichi gets home from work, Megumi’s usually in her room, studying. She’s so diligent; Daichi likes that. But Daichi would like to actually get to know her. Maybe she’ll never see him as a parent, but it would make him happy if they could at least talk.

He stands in front of her door, hand hovering above the wood. Maybe it’d be better to give her space? Her dad just ended up in prison, after all. She needs time to get over that. But maybe the opposite would be better…

_Pick one, Daichi,_ he scolds himself. _Don’t just stand there._

He knocks.

Megumi answers the door, yanking a cardigan on over her t-shirt and pulling her long dark hair out from her collar. “Did you need something from me?” she asks, shoving her glasses up her nose.

“No, I, um.” He scratches his head. “I was about to start dinner, and I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to cook with me? For fun?” She wrinkles her nose, making her freckles dance. “…Maybe I’m the only one who thinks cooking is fun,” he mutters.

Megumi snorts. It’s tiny, but it’s the first time Daichi’s seen her smile. He files it away as a win. “I’ll help,” she says, stepping out into the hallway. “What are we making?”

Daichi lets out a breath. “I don’t know,” he says, leading her into the kitchen. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

“That’s not very good. Don’t you have a schedule for these things?” She clicks her tongue and grimaces.

“…I do,” Daichi admits, his voice measured, “But I think Hajime forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday, so we might have to duck out for a couple of things.” He opens the fridge, glancing over at Megumi. “Is that okay?”

Megumi walks up behind him, peering around him into the fridge. She clicks her tongue again. “Well…” she drawls, “if you weren’t out of eggs, we could make omurice.”

Daichi grins, the map to an excellent plan unfolding in his mind. “Omurice sounds fine. Let me grab my wallet.” The 7-11 a block over sells eggs, but it’s a only short bike ride in the other direction to the nearest actual grocery store. If he can take her there and convince her to talk a little, Daichi has a better chance of cooking something she might actually enjoy.

Megumi, unfortunately, is very clever. She makes the first obstacle at the bike rack outside their apartment building as she watches Daichi unhook his bike with her arms crossed. “We don’t need bikes,” she says. “7-11 is right there.”

“Maybe I feel like biking,” Daichi says lightly. “It’s a nice day.”

Megumi looks up at the clear sky and back at Daichi, frowning. She takes her glasses off to clean them with her t-shirt. “We’re going to the actual store, aren’t we?” she says, her voice flat.

Daichi props his bike up and starts unhooking hers. “Yup.”

“Why are we going to the _actual_ store?” she whines. “7-11 has eggs.”

“I don’t like 7-11’s eggs.”

“Yes you do.” She covers her mouth with a soft clap.

“Hmmm, okay, I do,” Daichi admits as he unlocks her bike, too. “But we’ve got plenty of time, so we might as well pick up some other things while we’re at it, and the grocery store has better vegetables.”

“…If you’re sure,” she murmurs, and climbs onto her bike. Daichi grins and climbs onto his.

The ride to the grocery store is one of Daichi’s favorite parts of Kizugawa. The late afternoon light paints the city gold, turning buildings and parks into perfect paintings of early summer in southern Kyoto. Even the grocery store becomes something picturesque, the light softening the garish red lettering on the front of the building.

Megumi stops Daichi right after they walk inside and get a basket. “What are we really getting?” she asks. “Besides eggs.”

“Whatever you want.” Daichi sweeps his hand from left to right, underlining the entire store.

Megumi scrunches up her face and sighs. “Anything is fine, Sawamura-san, really. You don’t have to change things for me,” she says, measured and mechanical.

“Daichi is fine, Megumi-chan. It’s okay.” Daichi sets the basket on the floor. “And I have things I like to cook, sure, so does Hajime, but…” Daichi smiles gently. “You don’t like what Hajime and I eat very much, do you?”

“I told you, it’s fine.”

“But?”

“Nothing else.”

Daichi sighs. He reaches out to pat her shoulder. “You can tell me, it’s okay. I won’t be insulted.”

Megumi crosses her arms “You don’t have to change things for me,” she repeats, more insistent but watery.

“Having you come here was a really big change already, and I don’t regret it,” Daichi says, his voice soft. “But, compared to a whole person, changing the menu isn’t a big deal at all.”

Megumi pulls a handkerchief out of her sweater pocket and dabs at her eyes. “I like pickles,” she whispers.

“Pickles?” Daichi hums. They don’t eat pickles very much; he doesn’t particularly care for them. “What kind?”

“Radish, mostly.” She takes a deep breath. “And I like to make my own, with cucumber and yuzu.”

“That sounds like a good start.” Daichi picks up the basket and gestures towards the produce department. “Lead the way.”

Megumi relaxes a muscle with each thing that Daichi puts in his basket. Pickled radish, cucumber, okra. Peaches and yuzu. Megumi likes vegetables much more than either Daichi or Hajime, but they can work with that. Soba—she loves noodles—and salted salmon for her lunches. He gets some of his staples, too, edamame, carrots, lettuce, chicken, a little pork, more silken tofu. They’re fine on rice, but need more milk. He has to send Megumi, who’s now as chipper as Daichi has ever seen her, back to the front of the store for a second basket.

She meets Daichi by the fish counter. “I like mackerel,” she says, leaning over to read the prices. “Can we have it for dinner?”

Daichi pauses while redistributing their groceries into two baskets. Hajime hates mackerel.

Megumi shrinks back into herself. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice falling. “We can pick something else.”

Hajime can deal with it. “Is grilled okay?” Daichi asks.

“It’s the only way to eat it.” One corner of Megumi’s mouth quirks upward.

“Then get some!” Daichi waves her off. This was a good idea. Megumi doesn’t quite look _happy_ , but she seems comfortable, now. Daichi files away that as a win, too.

They finish up: the milk, some mayonnaise—Megumi remembers the eggs—and head back home. Their bikes cast long shadows in the evening sun, making their full baskets look enormous when painted on the pavement.

“Hey Sawamura-san?” Megumi asks, while they’re putting the food away. “Why did you make a face when I suggested mackerel?”

“Hajime doesn’t like fish very much,” Daichi replies without thinking. He catches himself with a grimace.

“Oh…” Megumi looks down at it and sighs. “Then, should we not…”

Daichi scrabbles for a way to save the evening. “I don’t like agedashi tofu very much.” He shrugs. “And we eat that way more often than is healthy.”

“Tofu’s not that bad for you…” Megumi looks from her mackerel to the tofu on the counter, her shoulders drooping.

“Deep frying it is.” Daichi stands up, gets the tofu, and shuts it in the fridge. “It’s really okay. We can make compromises.”

“But I don’t want—” She cuts herself off, shifting from foot to foot, and cleans her glasses.

“Maybe I do want to,” Daichi says. “Besides, I like mackerel, and I think it’s a great idea for dinner, but I’m out of practice and I’m not very good at it.” He looks Megumi in the eye. “I bet you’d cook it better than me.”

Megumi bites her lip. “I do make it a lot when it’s in season…”

“Well then.” Daichi grins. “I bet Hajime doesn’t like it because I’m not very good at it. Let’s see if he likes yours?”

Megumi nods, standing up a little straighter. “I bet it’ll be the best mackerel he’s ever had.”

It is. Hajime still doesn’t like it much, but he agrees to eat it again, because maybe he’ll like it more next time. That’s good enough to put that small smile back on Megumi’s face, and therefore good enough for Daichi.

Later that night, Hajime admits he’d eat a fish that Megumi had turned to charcoal if it meant she would would smile wider.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, they figure out a routine. Megumi inches her way into the kitchen. She goes from picking up the occasional meal, exhibiting the occasional preference, to doing something with Daichi or Iwaizumi almost every day. They eat more vegetables now, and more fish, which the doctor in Daichi is thrilled with. But the best part is that Hajime and Daichi actually get to spend time with Megumi on a regular basis. Sure, she still doesn’t talk much about anything personal—Daichi knows as much about her passion for seasonally-appropriate vegetables as everything else about her combined—but for an hour and a half each day, she comes out of her room and Daichi can pretend like they’re a real family.

That’s why it kills Daichi that she spends the rest of her time in her room. She won’t join them to read, or watch movies, or go the the park, or run any errands besides grocery shopping. She turns down every offer. Every night, when her door clicks shut, Hajime’s smile disappears with Megumi, and Daichi gets this bone-deep ache in his chest. What are they doing wrong?

“Give her time,” Daichi says, again, as Hajime’s face falls in time with the sound of Megumi’s door clicking shut.

Hajime sighs. “I am.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just wish I knew how to make her feel like she’s not a burden to us.”

“I wish I knew how to make her feel like she belongs here.” Daichi settles back into his chair with his book on his lap.

Hajime lets out one of his sad dog noises and opens his own book. Five minutes later, he hasn’t turned a page, and Daichi realizes that he hasn’t opened his book either. Daichi reaches over, slides Hajime’s book out of his hands, and sets them both on the table. “If we’re going to be mopey,” says Daichi, “then I want to be cuddling.”

Hajime snorts. “Yeah,” he replies. “Fair enough. Me too.”

They settle into each other on the couch, Hajime’s head pillowed on Daichi’s chest and their hands on each other’s soulmarks, ready for some good quality moping, when Megumi’s door opens. “Excuse me.” She clears her throat. “I don’t want to bother you, but I’m stuck on some of my homework, and my classmate isn’t answering her emails.”

Hajime and Daichi blink at her for a minute, frozen. “Um,” Hajime says eloquently.

“It’s okay if you’re busy,” Megumi continues. “I can see if I can get ahold of someone else.” But she doesn’t leave. She stands there, avoiding eye contact and clutching her notebook hard enough for it to wrinkle, but she doesn’t leave.

“Sure,” says Daichi.

“It’s not a problem,” Hajime says, at the same time.

Daichi snorts and shoves Hajime upward. Megumi swaps her tense shoulders for a tiny smile.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Hajime says, using Daichi as leverage to stand up.

“I might be able to help, too.” Daichi sits up.

Megumi holds out her notebook, and Hajime takes it. “Probably not,” he says with a mocking grin. “It’s _algebra.”_

Daichi gags at the very suggestion of math. “Eugh. You two have fun, then,” he says, lying back down and reaching for the book on the coffee table. “I’ll make you snacks in a bit.” He hides behind the pages, pretending not to watch them. _“Algebra._ The worst.”

Megumi giggles, and all the theatrics are worth it.

Hajime and Megumi sit down at the dining room table and get to work, talking softly. She’s almost as awkward around Hajime right now as she was around Daichi the first time they went grocery shopping together. She’s evasive and apologetic and keeps cleaning her glasses. A bit of guilt that Daichi was holding onto dissipates; it’s not just him that she has to learn to be comfortable around. He watches as she asks Hajime hesitant questions, chewing on her pencil eraser. Hajime answers every one with a smile or a nod or an extra tip on her scratch paper, and after a few minutes something seems to click that this is okay, she can do this, it’s not an imposition. She relaxes and leans into her work.

Daichi smiles over the top of his book as they work through the problems. Megumi sticks her tongue out a little when she’s focusing, just like Hajime. She kicks her feet under her chair and tilts her head when she asks questions. When Hajime puts an encouraging hand on her shoulder, she doesn’t flinch. Hajime looks natural next to her. You can see the resemblance in how they move. They look like a family and feel like home.

After about forty minutes, Hajime catches Daichi staring. He smirks and puts his hands on his hips. “I believe we were promised snacks!” he shouts, a snooty voice that he learned from Tooru. “What do you think, Megumi?”

Megumi tenses all over again, glancing between Hajime and Daichi.

“What’s the magic word,” Daichi says in a monotone voice, pretending not to his eyes off his book.

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Now.”

“Nope.” Daichi turns a page. “Incorrect.”

“Please?” Megumi offers, fidgeting with her pencil.

“Of course, Megumi, _you_ can have snacks.” Daichi stands up and heads over to the kitchen. “Hajime, you could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Aww,” Hajime sticks his tongue out as Daichi passes. “But I learned all my manners from the very best.”

Daichi shakes his head. “Tooru is not ‘the very best’ at manners.”

They snicker. Megumi hesitantly joins in.

“Do you have a preference, Megumi-chan?” Daichi hides his grimace behind the cabinet door. Was that okay? He’s supposed to be avoiding making her feel awkward.

She shakes her head. “Anything is fine, Daichi-san.” She turns back to her work.

Daichi sucks in a short breath. That was his first name. He smiles, his cheeks a little pink. “Anything it is!”

Hajime pulls Megumi’s notebook over to check answers. “I want chocolate,” he says.

“Hey!” Megumi elbows him.

“Please,” he adds, rubbing his side.

Chuckling, Daichi assembles a plate with sliced peaches, gummy candy, and those weird shortbread cookies Hajime likes with chocolate on the bottom. This is perfect. They’re moving towards building something with Megumi again. They’re doing something right. Hajime’s face is bright and he laughs easily; Megumi’s shoulders are relaxed and she doesn't hesitate as often. Daichi sings to himself as he assembles the snack plate. He loves them both. It feels like it’s soon to say that about Megumi, but he loves her.

His footsteps are light when takes the plate of snacks back out to the dining room table.

“You’re too slow,” Hajime says, snagging a cookie. “We’re done.”

Daichi sticks his tongue out at him. “You can have snacks whenever,” he says. “Maybe they’re celebratory snacks.”

“Actually…” Megumi says, taking a peach slice. “I do have more homework.”

“You can do it out here, if you want. There’s snacks,” Daichi points at the food. “What’s next?”

“Um, history.” She closes her notebook. “Then English.”

“Well, Hajime’s better at English. But history?” Daichi grins. “That’s something I can actually help with, if you need it.”

Megumi flashes him her tiny smile. “I’ll go get my other notebook.”

* * *

Later that night, as they lie in bed, the silence stretches between Hajime and Daichi, a river of things it’s too soon to hope for. Daichi is drowning in everything he wants, grafting his wishes for children and family five years from now onto everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. He can barely see Hajime on the other shore.

Hajime rolls over and props himself up on on elbow. “Hey, Dai,” he says. “What are you thinking about?”

“Megumi.” Daichi sighs. “You?”

“Megumi.”  Hajime flops back down onto the bed and Daichi rolls over, curling into his side.

“What color do you think she’ll be?” Daichi asks.

Hajime snorts. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?”

Daichi pulls his right hand out of the covers and stares at it, flexing the fingers covered in a bright, clear, sky blue watercolor wash. “I got my mark from Suga less than a week after we met,” he points out.

“And I got mine from Tooru in half an hour.” Hajime caresses Daichi’s cheek, the bright green splotch on his wrist luminescent in the dark.  “We were kids, Dai. Kids form attachments so fast.”

“She’s a kid,” Daichi murmurs.

Hajime sighs. “And she’s been through hell.”

Daichi reaches up to cup Hajime’s cheek. It’s damp. “Are you not hoping that we’ll mean enough to her?”

Hajime sniffs. “I don’t want to be wrong about it,” he huffs. “She already means enough to me, I think. But I don’t want to be wrong.”

“Hajime…” Daichi wiggles closer, pulling Hajime in for a hug. “I think we can hope.”

“What if tonight was a fluke, though?” Hajime buries his face in Daichi’s shoulder to keep from shouting. “What if she never does this again?”

Daichi’s eyes well up. He barely dares to think of whether it could be true, whether she might love them, but thinking that she won’t? That they’ll go back to being awkward roommates? It’s like being stabbed.

“I think she will,” Daichi says, his voice thick with holding back tears. “I thought grocery shopping was a fluke, and we thought cooking was a fluke.” He sighs. “We just have to give her time, right? And I think it’s working.”

“I hate when you’re right,” Hajime grumbles, his voice muffled by Daichi’s chest.

Daichi smirks and kisses his cheek. “Why do you hate it this time? You want me to be right about this.”

Hajime pouts. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

Daichi barks out a laugh and Hajime flicks him in the temple, which means war. Daichi gets in a few good seconds of tickling, but Hajime is fast, flexible, and strong.  He manages to push Daichi over and trap him as the little spoon, keeping a tight hold on Daichi’s wrists to preclude the possibility of a rematch. Daichi pulls against Hajime’s hold twice, but he just can’t argue when Hajime is nuzzling his neck. “You suck,” Daichi says, still chuckling.

“Mm-hmm.” Hajime kisses Daichi behind the ear and relaxes his hold, secure in his victory.

Daichi twines his fingers through Hajime’s. “I think we can make something wonderful out of this.”

“Out of what?” Hajime’s breath is hot against Daichi’s neck.

“Out of this whole situation with Megumi.” Daichi hums. “I really do think we’re getting somewhere good.”

Hajime nods. “I hope so.”

They drift into silence. Daichi’s eyelids grow heavy as he’s lulled closed to sleep by Hajime’s warmth. His hands relax, and the room around him blurs into darkness and pulls away.

“Purple,” Hajime murmurs into Daichi’s hair.

“Purple?” Daichi repeats, blinking his way back to wakefulness..

“If we get a soulmark from Megumi, it’ll be purple.”Hajime squeezes Daichi’s hand.

Daichi laughs. “You’re completely wrong. She’ll be kind of a pinky gold.”

“Orange, then?” Hajime’s smile reaches all the way to his voice.

“No, pinky gold!” Daichi grasps for examples, making a fist in empty air as he begs the real term to come to him. “You see it in jewelry. Suga would know what it’s called.”

Hajime snorts. “He would, but you’d still be wrong.” He flicks Daichi’s cheek.

Daichi gasps. “I would not! She’s definitely pinky gold.” He’s too cozy to start another war, so he settles for reaching back to flick Hajime right back. He misses.

Hajime smirks. “Purple.”

“Pinky gold!” Daichi pouts into his pillow.

Hajime traces the shell of Daichi’s ear. “You’re wrong,” he says, still laughing. “Go to sleep.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Daichi sticks out his tongue over his shoulder. He falls asleep to the tune of Hajime’s quiet snickering.

* * *

Late July brings a horrific heat wave. Their entire routine, built carefully over the two months since Megumi arrived, dissolves like water on the pavement. When they get home from work or school, they’re too tired to speak, let alone do things together. Megumi especially is completely unavailable immediately after school; she has to lie down for at least an hour with a wet washcloth on her forehead before she’s okay to do anything.

“How do you even manage?” Hajime asks her one evening over a dinner of fruit and chilled noodles. It’s too hot for anything of substance.

“What do you mean?” Megumi takes a bite, her hands so slow the air might as well be made of gelatin.

“Your sweater,” Hajime says, gesturing at her. “How can you wear an extra layer in this disaster?”

Daichi smirks at him. “You wear a full suit to work,” he says.

“And you can bet I wouldn’t if I could get away with it.” Hajime shoots back. He changed out of the offending suit as soon as he got home over an hour ago, but his face is still red and he’s guzzling down water to try and feel better. “Besides, my office is air-conditioned. I’m pretty sure the middle school isn’t.”

“It’s fine,” Megumi cleans her glasses. “I don’t really feel the heat.”

Two days later, the temperature climbs another four degrees, and Daichi gets a phone call at work. _“Is this Sawamura-san?”_ a woman’s voice asks.

“Yes, I—”

_“This is the nurse at Yamashiro Junior High. We have you listed as Iwaizumi Megumi’s emergency contact.”_

Despite the sweltering heat hanging over the clinic, Daichi feels a chill run up his spine. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

_“Sir, it’s not a terrible issue. She’s fine, just a little—”_

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Daichi repeats more firmly. “Thank you for calling me.”

There’s a pause. _“Ah, um. Yes. I see.”_ The woman sounds frustrated. _“We’ll see you soon.”_

It’s a ten minute walk-run back home to pick up the car, just in case, and another five from home to Yamashiro and every minute is a minute too long. Daichi taps his fingers against the steering wheel, willing the red light to change. He needs to know what happened, who hurt her, and he needs to know now.

He bursts into the school, ready for vengeance. He never lost his best scary captain’s face, but putting a smile on the front of it makes it both socially acceptable and ten times scarier, according to Suga. He wears this face like one would wield a sword.

He regrets it when he reaches the nurse’s office.

“Sawamura-san?” The nurse is a middle-aged woman with a deep frown. “I’m nurse Abe. We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes,” Daichi says. He has more weapons than his scary face. He’ll use them if he has to.

She crosses her arms. “There’s no need to have gotten so worked up, Sawamura-san. She just fainted. From the heat.”

Daichi stops short, and slaps a hand to his forehead. Of course. Record-breaking heat and that cardigan Megumi always wears are a terrible combination. He should’ve let nurse Abe explain over the phone.

Nurse Abe raises an eyebrow. “My, it almost looked like you were here to start a fight.”

Daichi grimaces. “Of course not,” he lies. He gives the nurse a bow, trying to get back on the right foot. “Thank you for looking after her. I can take her home if she’s gotten all her things.”

She appraises him, and gives a sharp nod. “I sent my assistant upstairs a couple of minutes ago. She should be right back.” She gestures to a set of folding screens. “You can go wait with Iwaizumi-chan.”

“Thank you.” Daichi bows again for good measure.

He steps around the screen and sighs. Megumi is lying down with an ice pack on her forehead. It’s low enough to cover her eyes, but her bitten lips, pinched into a frown, are still visible. Her cardigan is folded on a nearby chair with her glasses on top of it. Despite the ice pack and the lack of unnecessary layers, she’s still sweating.

Daichi sits down in the chair next to her bed. “Maybe the cardigan wasn’t such a great idea, hmm?” He gives Megumi a gentle pat on the shoulder.

She whines and turns away, dislodging the ice pack. Her eyes are red and puffy.

Daichi frowns. “I brought the car,” he says. “We can leave as soon as they bring your bag down.” No response. “Do you want me to hold the ice pack on the back of your neck? It’ll cool you off faster.”

Megumi nods, and hands it over. Daichi has just put it into place when the door slides open.

“Hey, is she okay?” a young voice rings through the door. “Is it true that she doesn’t—”

The door clicks shut.

A younger woman ducks around the screen, holding Megumi’s school bag and a small stack of papers. “Sawamura-san?”

Daichi stands up to greet her, but straightening would mean letting go of the ice pack. “Yes?” he says, hunching awkwardly.

“I’m Kawada Noriko, the nurse’s assistant.” She holds the bag out for him. “Here you go. You can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Kawada-san.” Daichi’s free hand is clumsy, but he loops the bag around his wrist and takes the papers without dropping them. “Do you mind clearing out the hallway for us?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. Abe-san is doing that right now.”

“Excellent.” Daichi sits back down. He waits another couple of minutes, until there aren’t even any footsteps in the hallway, and then leans over and whispers to Megumi. “Ready to go?” She nods, her lip wobbling. “Okay.”

Megumi’s a little unsteady on her feet when she stands up, but she declines to lean on Daichi’s other arm when he offers it. She hugs her sweater to her chest, and keeps her chin tucked downwards so that her hair falls in front of her face, shielding her. It’s a good choice: on the way out, Daichi catches a couple of wide-eyed children peeking out from the far end of the hallway and pointing. A better man would ignore them; Daichi can be the better man tomorrow. He dispatches them with a well-placed captain’s glare.

Megumi leans against the car window and ignores Daichi the whole way home. Daichi stops trying to force conversation two blocks into the drive.

Hajime pulls the door open before Daichi can unlock it. “The school called. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you there, but they said they got a hold of you, and the clinic is a lot closer than Ataka Daiki.” He takes a breath, and shifts his focus from panic to Megumi. “Is everything okay?”

Megumi shakes her head.

“She fainted from the heat,” Daichi explains, ushering them both inside.

Hajime hovers over Megumi, putting a hand to her clammy forehead, and frowning when she ducks away. “I thought it might be something like that,” he says. “Megumi, why don’t you take a bath before dinner? Lukewarm, not hot.”

Nodding, Megumi shuffles down the hall. Hajime and Daichi can hear sobbing from the bathroom while they cook an early dinner.

“She’s probably embarrassed,” Hajime says, pulling out a cutting board.

“Probably, poor thing.” Daichi sighs, dropping udon into the pot on the stove. “There were children who came to try and stare at her as she left.”

“That’s awful.” Hajime growls, slicing a scallion with excessive force.

“It might be.” Daichi stirs the pot. “They might have been friends.”

“But you glared at them anyway?” Hajime shoots Daichi a weak grin.

“Mhm.” Daichi sets up a colander in the sink. “I don’t think they were.”

“Don’t think they were friends?” Hajime’s hand shakes a little. He narrowly misses nicking his finger.

“Nope.” Daichi loses himself in the middle distance, and the pot boils over.

Hajime murders another scallion. “Tch.”

Dinner that night is stilted. Megumi, back in her cardigan, only opens her mouth to eat, shoving food in every time Hajime or Daichi ask her something, and they’re not willing to have a conversation in front of her without her. The only sounds are the click of chopsticks and the hum of the air conditioner as the mood grows heavier than anything the heat wave could have brought.

Megumi sets down her chopsticks and cleans her glasses. “Aren’t you going to ask about my arms?” Megumi asks, pulling her sleeves farther down over her hands, covering as much skin as possible. “Or did you already know?”

Hajime freezes his food halfway to his mouth. “Know what?”

“Ask what?” Daichi says at the same time.

Megumi grits her teeth and winces. “My arms,” she repeats, her voice pained, hunching over.

Daichi frowns and furrows his brow. He really hadn’t been paying attention to her arms earlier. “They looked healthy to me...”

Megumi bursts out of her chair and slams both hands on the table, rattling the plates. “Are you stupid?” she shouts. “I’m completely blank!”

A cold spike stabs Daichi in the gut. Today was the first time he’d seen Megumi in short sleeves. She wears her cardigan over everything, only taking it off when she changes into long-sleeved pajamas. Her legs are always fully covered in long pants, skirts, or tights.

In middle school and high school, Daichi was making important relationships left and right. By the time he graduated and left for college, there was barely a stretch of unmarked skin anywhere on him—he was painted with soulmarks for members of his team, friends, girlfriends, even rivals. Everyone he had known was the same, with splashes of color on their arms, legs, and faces. Even Tsukishima, who had so few people he’d even tolerate, had a couple of marks that crept out from the hems of his sleeves.

It’s been years since then, and many of those relationships have faded, the soulmarks becoming pastel swatches or disappearing entirely. But it’s well-documented that the teenage years are some of the most colorful.

But not for Megumi. Megumi is blank.

“Oh,” Daichi says. He looks over at Hajime, whose ashen face and wide eyes surely mirror his own.

“Yeah,” Megumi says, her voice curt and her shoulders shaking. _“‘Oh.’_ ”

They stare at each other. The air conditioner hums.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Daichi offers, gently.

Megumi’s knuckles go white where she’s gripping the edge of the table. “…I thought you would know. You know, because I live here. Because you adopted me.”

Hajime spent hours upon hours on the phone with his mother before Megumi came to them. Daichi glances over at Hajime, his head tilted into a question. Hajime shakes his head, color coming back into his face. He glares at the salt shaker. “Mother didn’t mention anything about your soulmarks,” he spits.

Megumi flinches.

“…Or lack thereof,” Hajime adds, more softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Daichi repeats, offering his hand for her to take.

Megumi doesn’t move. “I…”

Daichi inches his hand a little closer to hers. “We can also call Hajime’s mother if you’d rather not explain.”

Megumi shakes her head. vigorously.

“Or,” Hajime sighs, “do you not want us to know?”

Megumi sinks back into her seat and pulls a leg up onto the chair, hiding behind it. “It’s a genetic thing.” She whispers. “My skin just doesn’t make the pigment for it. And people don’t make marks for me without it.”

Hajime glances expectantly at Daichi. “That sounds awful,” he says.

Megumi nods.

Daichi can think of several different conditions that fit that description, some physical, some psychological. Some curable. He’s not a geneticist, but maybe he still can do something, or maybe he knows someone else who can.

Megumi chokes out a sob. Her shoulders start to shake.

“Oh, honey,” Hajime says. “It’s okay.” He reaches out to pat her on the knee, but his hand freezes in mid air when she pulls back.

“It’s _not_ okay!” Megumi cries. “No one likes you if you can’t like them back, if you can’t like _anyone_ back!” She sniffs, wiping frantically at her eyes. “And the worst part of it all is I _can_ ! I _can_ care! I care so much, and it’s never going to matter!”

In perfect unison, Daichi and Hajime shove their chairs aside to crouch next to Megumi and hold her while she cries. Megumi freezes, looking back and forth between thm. Then, she gives up, and throws her head back and wails. Her voice echoes off the apartment walls. It catches in Daichi’s chest, and he has to hold back his own tears.

Outside, the sun dips below the horizon. Daichi rubs gentle circles between Megumi’s shoulder blades, and slowly, slowly, they stop shaking. Hajime gives the hand he’s holding a squeeze. “It does matter,” he says, his voice the softest Daichi has ever heard it.

“No it doesn’t.” She wipes at her eyes, her voice still watery.

Hajime nods. “Sure it does.” he reaches behind him and pulls the kleenex box off the bookcase and hands it to Megumi.

“But no one can ever tell that I care,” she says, drying her eyes.

Hajime ducks down in front of her, so she can see his face even though she’s hunched over. “I can tell that you care.”

Megumi frowns at him, her lip wobbling anew. “Don’t say things like that. I know you don’t have any new marks. No one ever gets marks from me.” She sniffles. “My dad doesn’t even get marks from me.”

Daichi’s hand falters in its rhythm. A parent-child bond is practically a given, with only one medical exception. There’s no way to fix this.

Hajime sighs. “All right,” he says. “How about this? We care about you.”

Megumi turns away, shaking down a curtain of hair to hide behind. “You’re only saying that to be nice,” she says. “You wouldn’t have take me if you’d known. You only took me because we’re related.”

“Hey.” Hajime brushes the hair out of Megumi’s face and tilts her chin up to make eye contact. “Do _not_ say things like that.”

She shakes her head. “They’re true.”

“They’re _not.”_ Dachi and Hajime say in unison. Daichi can’t help raising his voice.

Megumi glances between Daichi and Hajime, her jaw slack.

“See?” Hajime says, cupping her cheek. “I care about you and so does Daichi. Daichi wants you here, just like I do.”

“But would you still have? If you’d known?” She shakes off Hajime’s grip and meets Daichi’s gaze. Her eyes are watery and wide.

“Yes, Megumi, of course I would have,” Daichi says, in a rush. Please, let her believe him.

“You’re just saying that.”

Daichi heart cracks. He stops rubbing her back.

Hajime throws his head back and laughs. Megumi jumps, and she and Daichi both stare at him. “Megumi, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Daichi didn’t even let me explain who you were before he agreed to take you in.”

“What?!” Megumi squeaks, whipping her head back around. “Is that true?”

Daichi nods slowly. “It’s true,” he says. “And it’d still be true even if Hajime hadn’t taken forever to get to the point.”

She tilts her head. “You said yes, and _then_ you learned everything about me? About what happened?”

Daichi smiles. “Mhm.”

“And you didn’t change your mind?” She finally lets go of her leg so she can punctuate her disbelief with her hands.

“Why would I want to do something like that?” Daichi’s shoulders tense as he waits for her answer, but he makes sure to keep the smile on his face.

“Because I— I’m—” She gestures between herself and the rest of the world, words failing her as she starts crying again.

“You’re a wonderful young lady,” Daichi says, resuming the circular caresses  between her shoulder blades. “You’re smart and you’re kind. And our lives are better with you in it. I don’t care if we never get soulmarks from each other.”

“Me neither,” Hajime says. “I’m glad you had Mother call us first. I’m so happy you’re here.” He hugs Megumi tight, his voice also going watery. “Don’t you _dare_ think we don’t want you here.”

Daichi follows suit, his eyes pricking with tears. “Don’t you dare think we don’t love you.”

* * *

“Hey, Megumi,” Hajime asks one night as they clean the kitchen. “Is there anything you want for your birthday?”

Daichi spares a frantic glance towards the wall calendar and yup, it’s in a week, and he’s completely unprepared. He needs to clean, go grocery shopping…

Megumi runs a towel along the edge of a plate and hums thoughtfully. “Anything is fine,” she says. “You don’t have to go out of your way.”

Daichi and Hajime groan quietly, in harmony. “We’re not very good at guessing,” Daichi says. “So if there’s anything you want, or want to do, you should say so.”

“‘We.’” Hajime snorts. “Don’t throw me under the bus.”

Daichi raises an eyebrow. “You got me a book for my last birthday.” He shoots a bemused glare over his shoulder as he boxes up leftovers. “It was the same book you got me two Christmases ago.”

“I thought you’d like it!” Hajime flicks water at Daichi.

Daichi ducks. “I liked it quite a bit the first time I read it.”

“Don’t be mean. That wasn’t the only thing I got you. You said the rest of it was a good surprise.” Hajime rinses the plate he’s washing and hands it to Megumi. She doesn’t acknowledge him. “Megumi?” He asks. “Are you okay?”

Megumi tightens her grip on the towel. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”

Hajime sets the plate back down in the sink. “We don’t think that.”

Her shoulders tense. “Or that I’m not happy here.”

Daichi sucks in a breath. “But?”

“But…” She sighs. “I want to see my dad.”

Daichi’s jaw and Hajime’s shoulders tense in unison. “You finish the dishes?” Hajime asks.

Daichi nods. “Go.” He shuts the last tupperware in the fridge.

Hajime disappears down the hall. Megumi watches him go, wearing a wobbly frown. “Does that mean ‘no?’” she asks Daichi.

“He’s calling his mom,” Daichi says, taking Hajime’s place by the sink. “You’ve met her, of course.”

Megumi scowls.

Daichi snickers. “You can be impolite, I don’t mind. I don’t like her, either.” He hands Megumi the plate. “Dry.”

She does. “She kind of sucks,” she says.

Daichi cackles. “I can’t stand her,” he says. “She wants the world to be a certain way, and she’s used to getting what she wants. And since I’m not usually willing to give her what she wants, she doesn’t like me much either.”

Megumi takes another plate, her shoulders tense. “She likes me, but she doesn’t like my dad at all,” she says. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” Daichi hands Megumi the last pot and she dries it, moving the towel in rhythm with the muffled sounds of Hajime in a shouting match. Daichi turns off the water. “Megumi…”

She hangs the towel back up. “Yeah?”

Daichi takes a breath. “I want you to know that if we knew which prison your dad was in, we’d have taken you there already.”

Megumi whips her head arounds and stares at Daichi, her eyes wide and her lip quivering. “That’s not fair!” she shouts. “I haven’t seen him in almost _three months_ , and I thought—” She bites her lip and looks down.

Daichi ducks down so he’s in her line of sight. “What did you think?”

She turns away and crosses her arms. “No, it’s rude.”

He sighs. “Megumi…”

“It’s hurtful and I won’t say it.” She angles her head farther up and away, and sticks her chin out with a huff. The gesture is so sharp it almost camouflages the way her lower lip is still trembling.

Daichi’s heart sinks to his shoes. “Megumi,” he says, “Did you think we were keeping you from him?”

Megumi’s determined posture crumbles, like a puppet with cut strings. Her eyes well up. “Yes,” she whispers.

Daichi winces. He reaches out, offering a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “We should have said something.”

Megumi takes the offer. “I didn’t know how to ask,” she says, returning the hug.

Daichi pulls back and holds her by the shoulders. He looks her in the eye. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he says. “We should have said something. It was our responsibility.”

Megumi nods, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. Daichi puts an arm around her and leads her to the living room, where they flop next to each other on the couch. There’s a Kleenex box on the end table; Daichi passes it to Megumi. She takes one and wipes her eyes. “This sucks.”

“Which part?” Daichi asks. Two rooms away, Hajime bangs on a wall, making them both jump.

“I don’t know, all of it?” She throws her head back and lets out a noise like a disgruntled cat. “My dad’s not a bad person.”

Daichi shakes his head. “I never said he was.” He puts the Kleenex back. “If it helps, she doesn’t like me or Hajime very much either.”

Megumi sits back up and pulls her legs up under her. “Because you won’t give her what she wants, you said.”

Daichi chuckles without mirth. “There’s that, but that’s not the only reason.”

“Why not then?” Megumi tilts her head. “You seem like you’d meet her standards.”

Daichi grits his teeth. “She has high standards. If your dad didn’t meet them, how do you think her gay son and his boyfriend stack up?” he spits. “This is the most she and Hajime have spoken since we came out.”

Megumi sits up straighter, her eyes narrowing. “That’s horrible!” she exclaims.

A smile quirks at the corner of Daichi’s mouth. “Thank you,” he says. Usually, talking about Hajime’s mother makes him feel sick, but Megumi’s outrage is enough to ward it off.

Megumi fiddles with her hair. “Hey Daichi,” she says. “Can I ask you something?”

Daichi nods. “Sure, Anything.”

Megumi bites her lip. “If you and Hajime are dating, does that mean you have soulmarks?”

Daichi frowns and furrows his brow. “Well...”

Megumi rolls her eyes. “You can tell me,” she says. “I won’t be upset if you do just because I don’t.”

“Mhm.” Daichi rests his chin on his hands. “We do.”

Megumi lets out a soft hum. “What are they like?”

“They’re…” Daichi flops back into the couch cushions. Where to start? The rush of feeling he felt when he realized that Hajime felt something for him too, even before he’d confessed? The joy of watching it darken as they grew together? The way it itches sometimes when Hajime is upset?

Megumi snorts. “I mean, what color are they?”

Color. Of course. Daichi chuckles at himself and runs a hand down his face. “Hajime’s—I mean, the one he got from me—is green and gold.” he says. “The green is like pine needles and the gold is like autumn leaves, I think? And it looks like it’s paint, dry-brushed on. But I’ve given other people brown ones before; they’re not always that nice-looking.”

Megumi nods and tucks her hair behind her ear. “And the one you got from Hajime is…?”

Beautiful. “It’s watery and solid, like ink. It’s steel blue, that ebbs and flows. Darker, lighter. Almost teal, in places.” Daichi’s voice gets high and soft whenever he talks about it. The mark almost feels warm on his skin.

Megumi sighs. “It sounds lovely.”

“It is,” Daichi agrees. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine!” Megumi says, hurriedly. “I asked, after all.” She turns away, wistfully staring into the middle distance.

Down the hall, the shouting reaches its peak. Even muffled through the door, the argument is intelligible. “No, no no! It doesn’t work like that!” Hajime screeches. _“He’s still her father!”_

Megumi lets her head fall into her hands. “I didn’t mean to make this difficult,” she says.

“Please believe me when I say that you are not the one making this difficult,” Daichi pats her on the shoulder. “Want me to get a deck of cards?”

She glowers at him. “Card games with two people suck.”

“Point taken.” Daichi pulls his hand back. There’s another bang. “If it helps,” Daichi says, “it’s not usually this bad. Although, recently he’s been trying to get the information out of other relatives, and that involves less shouting.”

Hajime’s growl echoes down the hall. _“It’s her damned birthday, Mother!”_

“It doesn’t, really,” Megumi says. She pushes herself up off the couch. “I think I’m going to go listen to some music until this is over.”

“I don’t blame you.” Daichi waves her off.

She stops at the hallway. “Thank him for me,” she says, over her shoulder. “Whether this works or not, I’m grateful. You didn’t have to try this hard.”

Daichi shakes his head. “Of course we did.” he says. “You’re family.”

Megumi stares at Daichi, and then into the middle distance, and then back at Daichi. “Family. Huh.” She smiles her tiny smile. “I’ll be out later.”

Daichi nods. “See you later.” Daichi pulls out his phone and fiddles with it. He begs the universe, begs Hajime and his mother, not to disappoint her. He starts tapping his foot. Daichi would give up a kidney if it meant that Megumi got to see her dad, but he can’t do anything. He can’t make the phone calls or do the detective work. It’s all up to Hajime and his ability to get through to his mother. Daichi puts his phone away and pulls out a book. He reads the same sentence five times. Maybe Megumi had the right idea: music would make the time pass, but Daichi’s headphones are in the bedroom. With Hajime on the phone.

The bedroom door creaks open. Hajime’s face is cautiously neutral as he peeks around the corner, but when he sees it’s just Daichi, his grin splits his face, wide and bright.

Daichi tosses his book aside. “Did you get it?”

Hajime shushes him. “I want to make sure she didn’t give us fake information—I’m not sure I trust her on this—but yes, I’ve got something.” He bounces down on the couch next to Daichi.

Daichi kisses him. “Perfect. You’ll check tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Hajime drags his hand down his face. There’s exhaustion in the corners of his eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. “That took way too long.”

“But you got it!” Daichi says. Hajime’s spreads across Daichi’s face.

“I did!” Hajime pulls Daichi close and they collapse into each other, giggling helplessly.

“We should get her stationery for her birthday,” Daichi says. “Really nice stationery. So she can write to him.”

Hajime nods. “And a nice pen,” he adds.

“I’m not sure,” Daichi says, with a wobbly hum. “People are really particular about their pens.”

“Nice stationery needs a nice pen,” Hajime insists, shaking his head.

“Fine,” Daichi says, chuckling. “Nice stationery and a nice pen.”

* * *

The most important day of the summer is August 9th, a Wednesday. When Hajime and Daichi’s alarms go off, the sun is lower and the light weaker than usual, but they want the extra time. They pad through the house, cooking and dressing in careful silence: Megumi sleeps in during her summer break, and they don’t want to wake her up any earlier than necessary.

‘Necessary’ comes at eight. “Megumi?” Hajime knocks on her door. “Good morning. Can we come in?”

Daichi holds the fancy green envelope with the tips of his fingers, so as to not wrinkle it or mess it up with sweaty palms. “We have something for you,” he says.

There’s some soft shuffling from behind the door. “You can come in,” Megumi calls through a yawn. “It’s open.”

Hajime pushes the door open, and they step into her room. Megumi is sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She pushes her hair out of her face, and puts on her glasses. “Good morning,” she says.

“Happy birthday,” Hajime says. He perches on the edge of her bed. “Sorry to wake you, but we didn’t want to wait.”

Daichi kneels next to her, sinking into her fluffy rug. It matches the green of the envelope he holds out. “Happy birthday,” he says, smiling.

“Thank you.” Megumi takes it with a small smile. She slides her fingernail under the flap, pulling out the card. Three pieces of paper fall into her lap when she unfolds it. “Train tickets?” She quirks an eyebrow. “To Sendai?”

“For this weekend,” Daichi says, grinning now.

“Here’s mine,” Hajime says, pulling another fancy envelope out of his pocket. This one is purple and tied with a bow.

Megumi slides the ribbon off and opens the card. Her hand flies up to cover her open mouth. “Is this my dad’s mailing address?” she asks, looking up at Hajime with wide eyes.

Hajime nods, his grin matching Daichi’s. “It’s in Sendai,” he says.

Megumi’s wide-eyed gaze flits back and forth between the two of them. “This is real?” she whispers.

Daichi and Hajime nod. “Happy birthday,” Hajime repeats.

Megumi collects the cards and tickets with the care one reserves for medieval illuminated manuscripts and places them on the shelf next to her bed. Then, she pulls Daichi and Hajime both into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she says, her voice quivering. “Thank you both so much.”

Daichi and Hajime hug her back. “Please don’t cry,” Daichi says. “If you cry, I’ll cry.”

Hajime snorts.

“I’m not going to cry!” Megumi pulls back with a shaky laugh. “I just wasn’t expecting this. I thought it’d take longer.”

“It did take three months,” Hajime says, with a tense chuckle. “Every bit of three months.” He shudders, then shakes it off. “But we have the address now, and we can take you out to visit him about once a month. And you can write him as much as you want.”

Megumi hugs Hajime again. “I’m going to write him today!” she says. “Thank you.”

“Well...” Daichi stretches the word out long enough to conceal the rest of his plans. “You might want to wait until tomorrow to write him.”

Megumi’s eyes widen. “There’s more?”

Hajime elbows Daichi in the ribs. “It’s supposed to be a surprise,” he says, in a staccato of annoyance.

Daichi rubs at his aching ribs. “Can’t you let me spoil my family in peace?”

_“A surprise,”_ Hajime repeats, through gritted teeth.

Megumi laughs, high and bright. “I won’t ask,” she says.

Daichi’s watch beeps at him. Eight-twenty. “We have to go,” he says, giving Megumi a last hug.

Megumi nods. “See you tonight!” she chirps. “Thank you again.”

As they leave the room, she pulls the card with her father’s address off the shelf and hugs it to her chest. Daichi spends his entire day with a smile glued to his face.

When Daichi gets home from work after ducking out early, the house is quiet. The table has been cleaned, the dishes washed and put away. The couch is empty, and Megumi’s door is open, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Megumi?” He calls.

_“I’m in the bathroom!”_ she calls. _“I’ll be out in a sec.”_

Daichi nods, and ducks into his room to change out of his work clothes. She’s still in the bathroom when he comes out, so he heads in the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It’s so far in advance, that there’s not much he can do. He walks back down the hall and knocks on the bathroom door. “Are you okay in there?”

_“I’m fine!”_ Her voice sounds a little strained.

Daichi furrows his eyebrows.“Are you sure?” he asks.

_“Yes, I’m sure!”_

The front door opens and closes. “I’m home!” Hajime calls. “Daichi? Megumi?”

Daichi walks out to meet him. “She’s in the bathroom.”

Hajime nods. “I can wait.”

Daichi shakes his head. “She’s been in the bathroom since I got home.” He wrings his hands. “She says she’s fine, but…”

Shrugging, Hajime says, “If she says she’s fine, she’s probably fine.”

After another ten minutes, even Hajime is antsy. He goes over to the bathroom and knocks. “Megumi, honey, are you sure everything is okay?” He asks.

There’s a shuffle and a soft clunk. _“I’m okay! really.”_

Daichi and Hajime exchange the look they reserve for blatant lies. “If everything’s fine,” Hajime says, “then why won’t you come out?”

There’s a thick silence. Hajime reaches for the doorknob, his hand hovering just short of grabbing it.

_"You have to promise not to laugh,”_ Megumi says.

Daichi’s eyebrows go up and his shoulders tense. “We won’t laugh, we swear,” He assures her.

_“Both of you.”_

“I promise,” Hajime says, pulling his hands back and bracing himself.

Slowly, the doorknob turns. Megumi peeks out from around the doorknob. Her hair is a dramatic uneven blonde, with a couple of garish chunks of blue and green around the ears. Her face underneath is bright red, and fixed firmly in a pout.

Daichi and Hajime, true to their word, do not laugh. It’s a near thing.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi murmurs.

Daichi shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “It’s your hair; you can do whatever you want with it.”

“…Was this what you were going for, though?” Hajime asks, gesturing at the blonde.

“Not really,” Megumi cleans her glasses with a panicked giggle. “I’ll have to fix it.”

“Have you ever dyed your hair before?” Daichi gently takes a lock and runs his fingers through it. His hand comes away blue.

“No, but dyeing it back shouldn’t be too hard, right?” Megumi looks up at him, grimacing.

“I’ve heard otherwise.” Daichi reaches for a Kleenex and wipes his hand clean. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not fixable.” He turns to Hajime. “I’m going to call Suga.”

Hajime scoffs. “Suga ‘just wakes up like that,’ apparently. Tooru will know a better stylist.”

Daichi chuckles. “I’ve roomed with Suga at training camp and that is a filthy lie. But I know he knows someone who’s particularly good with color.”

“Fine, fine.” Hajime waves him off.

As Daichi heads out to the living room to make the call, he hears Megumi ask, “Is it really that bad?”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s bad or not,” Hajime replies. “What matters is that it’s not what you wanted, so we’re going to get ahold of someone who can make it look how you had in mind.”

“You’re not going to just make me dye it back?”

“It’s your hair. Like Daichi said, you can do whatever you want with it.”

Daichi smiles fondly and dials.

Suga, thankfully, picks up on the second ring. _“Daichi, hey!”_ he chirps. _“What’s up?”_

Daichi smiles, breathing a sigh of relief. “Hey Suga,” he says, “I need a favor. If I remember correctly, you know someone who’s really good at hair dye?”

_“Your hair looks fine, Daichi,”_ Suga chides. _“Captaincy and medical school somehow didn’t make you prematurely grey, so I can’t imagine what you’d want to do with it.”_

“It’s not for me,” Daichi scoffs. “it’s for my daughter.”  Daichi’s hand flies to his mouth. The conversation from the bathroom abruptly stops.

_“Your daughter, huh?”_ Suga’s smirk is audible even through the phone.

“Er, yes.” Daichi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We had a bit of a mishap.”

Suga snickers. _“Well, Tomomi-san doesn’t usually take walk-ins, but she owes me a favor and I’ve been out of town so she hasn’t been able to repay it. You’ll have to go into Kyoto, though.”_

Daichi hastily reshuffles his plans. “That’ll work fine,” he says.

_“Great! I’ll call you back.”_

Suga hangs up. Daichi is left standing in the middle of the silent apartment, staring at his family.

“‘Daughter?’” Hajime asks, smirking.

“I’m sorry, it— it just slipped out,” Daichi stammers, holding his hands up in front of him, palms out. “I don’t want to presume anything.”

“I, uh.”Megumi shakes her head, her cheeks pink. “I don’t mind.” She smiles, a hair wider than usual.

Daichi nods slowly. “Okay.” His cheeks are warm now, too. “That’s… that’s good.”

Daichi’s phone screeches, making them jump. Daichi picks it up. “Hey Suga,” Daichi says.

_“Good news! Tomomi-san can fit your kid in an hour and a half. Let me give you the address.”_

Daichi thanks Suga and writes the address down while Hajime retrieves packages from their bedroom and puts them in a bag. The short timeframe means it’s better to drive, and they pass the ride in comfortable silence. It makes Daichi smile. Three months ago, existing around each other when they had things to say to each other was painful at best, and every silence was awkward. Now, Daichi thinks, they could actually pass for a normal family who’ve known each other for years instead of just a few months.

They get to the salon and meet Tomomi-san, who is very kind and, according to the pictures on the wall, very good at what she does. Megumi lights up for the first time that afternoon, and Daichi feels his shoulders relax a little. It’s her birthday, she should be happy. He’s halfway to sitting down in a chair in the salon waiting room, when Megumi clears her throat. “Um, I don’t want you to watch it get done,” she says. “You weren’t supposed to see until it’s finished.”

Daichi slowly stands back up. “That’s… fine…”

Megumi bites her lip. “Are you sure? I’d just rather…”

“No, no,” Hajime cuts in. “It’s fine. We can wander around, maybe pick a restaurant for dinner.” He fishes a credit card out of his wallet. “Just the haircut and shampoo, okay?”

Megumi takes the card, Her solemn nod clashing with the sparkles in her eyes. “I’ll be responsible.”

Hajime grabs Daichi’s hand and pulls him out the door. “Call us when you’re done!” He adds, over his shoulder.

“Are you sure she’ll be fine?” Daichi asks after Hajime’s led them out onto the street.

“I trust her, don’t you?”

Daichi scoffs. “You know it’s not that. I just worry.”

“I know you do,” Hajime grins. “It’s cute. But I think she’ll be fine, and she has a phone if she needs us.” He gives Daichi’s hand a soft squeeze. “She can handle this.”

Right. She’s fourteen now. She can handle herself. “Let’s go look around?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They bounce around the neighborhood and end up picking up even more stationery for Megumi before they settle in at a nice restaurant with drinks and an appetizer. Megumi shows up a little over an hour later with her hair back to normal.

“I got what I wanted,” she says, giving Hajime back his card and the receipt. “Tomomi-san was very nice.”

“That’s good,” Hajime says. “It looks nice, but…What, exactly, did you have her do?”

Megumi smiles at them. “I got a soulmark,” she says.

“What?” Daichi shakes his head. “But I thought…”

Megumi reaches up as if to put her hair in a ponytail and lets it slowly fall back onto her shoulders. Under the top layer of hair, which is her usual dark brown, she now has a set of colorful highlights.

“I know that shade of gold…” Hajime whispers, reaching out to touch it.

It’s not just autumn gold. There’s forest green, and steel blue, and dusty teal. “She got the colors exactly right,” Daichi murmurs.

“It’s so great!” Megumi says, grinning. “I wanted a soulmark for all the most important people in my family.” She twirls a lock of hair around her finger. It’s a rusty orange Daichi doesn’t recognize, but it looks perfect next to the blues and yellows and greens.

“Megumi,” Hajime says, sniffling. “You know we can be a family whether you dye your hair or not, right?”

“But I wanted it,” she insists. “I know you care. I can feel that you care. I just wanted something.” She slouches in her seat a little, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. “…Do you like it?”

Daichi feels himself get a little choked up. “It’s perfect,” he says, nodding vigorously.

“I think it’s wonderful.” Hajime does a poor job of hiding the fact that he’s crying. “Thank you.”

They get out of their seats and hug Megumi, their daughter, and Megumi looks up at them and beams. It’s the widest smile Daichi has ever seen, lighting up her entire face. If Daichi and Hajime were to get a soulmark from her, it’d be the same color as that smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy very late holidays to [stirlingphoenix!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stirlingphoenix/works) I'm so sorry this took so long, but I want to thank you for being patient with me. I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Special thanks to [Cash](http://twitter.com/carriecmoney) and [Beq](http://twitter.com/astahfrith) for all your help! I appreciate it more than I can say.
> 
> I'm [nitid_applegate](http://twitter.com/nitid_applegate) on twitter and [verdigrisvagabond](http://verdigrisvagabond.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come say hi!


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